


like home

by Withpetals_withblood



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Canon-ish, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Moving On, PTSD, Paradise, but it's mostly porn, but there's some plot i promise, newt lived, okay it's pretty much porn, versatile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withpetals_withblood/pseuds/Withpetals_withblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas, Newt and Minho start their lives in Paradise and struggle to let the past go in an attempt to enjoy their only shot at happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. high rise

**Author's Note:**

> *okay, please take note of the canon-ish in the tags. the ish is there for a reason.  
> *i didn't have a beta for this and i tried to nab all the typos but there's bound to be more, i apologize in advance  
> *i wanted this to be longer but alas it seemed to close rather quickly.

"I expected it to be cold and all," Minho sighed and rolled one shoulder into a lazy shrug, "but I wasn't really expecting high rise apartments."

Thomas was by his side staring up at the tall red brick building in front of them with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of a long black coat. He tilted his head and nodded, "I wasn't expecting much of anything but yeah," he agreed, "I definitely wasn't expecting this."

Minho swung a set of keys around his index finger, "We're in the penthouse," his eyes drifted down to their feet and he watched Thomas shift nervously- bouncing from one foot to the other and back again. 

"You sure about this?" 

Butterscotch eyes flicked around the building a few more times before Thomas licked over his lips and nodded, " 'course I'm sure."

"They're nice," Minho huffed proudly, crossing his arms over his chest, "I mean, I did developed them myself so-"

Thomas shoved him playfully, "Yeah, I remember you telling me that once or twice," he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Minho's wrist, pulling him towards the entrance. 

There was a pair of glass paned doors with black handles and they opened easily when Thomas tugged on them. The lobby was simple, dark grey tile and an intercom to call up to residents. Modern, clean and functional. They faced a set of three elevators and Thomas smiled when he felt Minho's arm snake around his waist and tug gently on the top of his hip. 

A soft white light glowed over the far left elevator and its doors peeled open for them to step inside. Minho's chest pressed against Thomas' back and his hand stayed put on the slender curve of his waist, "Did I do a good job?" he asked quietly as the doors shut and they ascended towards the top of the building.

"Yeah," Thomas answered, breath hitching when Minho's fingertips popped one of the large buttons open on the bottom of his coat, "you did a really good job."

It was over- all of it. And none of them had taken time to enjoy it. Time. God, the concept of it was completely foreign. There was a brief touch here, a whisper there, some reassurance every now and then. But the trials had consumed them. Battling a war to reclaim what was taken from them had destroyed the idea of something functional. They hadn't had a home- not since the glade at least, a safe place, an escape. But now, with Minho's hands tracing the top of Thomas' jeans and his lips pressing warm and sure along the column of his throat, maybe they had a chance. 

The back of Thomas' head fell against Minho's shoulder and his jaw clenched when he swallowed a deep breath, hips stirring and rocking back against the warm waist settled behind him. Blunt teeth scraped along Thomas' shoulder and dipped low until Minho bit down and tugged on the collar of his coat.

A breathy laugh stumbled over Thomas' lips, "Down boy-"

He nearly choked when Minho's hand traveled the crease of his thigh.

The elevator stopped and Thomas stumbled out while Minho stayed glued to his back, hands wrapped securely around his hips, thumbs pressing in on either side of his belly button. Large familiar palms roamed up Thomas' torso, flicking open the buttons on his jacket as they went. 

"I can't," Thomas whined while they stumbled forward, eyes squeezing shut as he braced one hand against the dark charcoal door, "I can't get us inside if you don't calm down for a-" his voice was cut short when Minho twisted him around and sealed their mouths together.

"Be quiet," Minho hissed, sucking Thomas' bottom lip in-between his teeth.

Those were the same two words he'd said in the maze the first time. The first time Minho slammed Thomas against the cold ivy-covered wall and found out what it was like to feel again. To kiss. To ache. To want. A calloused reminder of what could be and what would be because they made it. They fucking made it. 

They weren't sweat drenched children fighting for their lives; they weren't scared little boys running towards a hope that would only evolve into tragedy. They made it and they were so much more than what they used to be. All of them. 

The kiss was deep and slow and wet and everything that it hadn't been in the maze. 

Thomas leaned back to take in a short breath, holding up the key and shaking it when Minho's lips chased after him. Dark eyes rolled and Minho gestured impatiently to the door handle until Thomas turned around and finally got the lock to click open.

"Go on," Minho mumbled, pressing another kiss against the hollow of his throat.

Long fingers twitched and Thomas licked over his lips, pushing through the door as it swung open, "Where is he, though? He was supposed to..." the protests from Thomas trailed off into nothing as his eyes raked over the apartment. From the hard wood floor to the boxes in the corner, across the shaggy beige throw rug beneath the small white coffee table and finally to the lanky blonde sitting with his elbows resting on the tops of his knees and a bottle dangling from his fingertips.

Newt smiled fondly, dark chestnut eyes shaded by long lashes, "Brenda sent a house warming gift," he held up the beer and gestured behind him to the open kitchen, "I put the rest in the fridge."

Minho smiled against Thomas' neck and his hands moved from the lithe dip of his hips to the expanse of a broad chest. The heavy pea coat was peeled off and the sound it made when it hit the floor was far too loud. So was the sound of Thomas’ short breath, the sound of Newt's bottle being set on the table next to him, even Minho's lips, wet and slack against his shoulder. Everything was loud and sudden and real. This was real.

Newt stood and Thomas closed his eyes when Minho whispered, 'we're home' against the shell of his ear. He took slow steps but as soon as the blonde was close enough to reach Thomas grasped his hand, pulled him in against his chest and found the pale pout of his lips. Newt fell into the kiss, lips parting for the press of Thomas' tongue as one of his hands cupped his jaw while the other moved around to settle on Minho's waist. 

"We have so much time," Thomas babbled between their lips and shared breaths, "we finally-" the words were swallowed down by another persistent kiss from Newt who grinded forward with his thigh slotted between the boys legs.

"I know, Tommy," Newt craned his neck when Thomas dove down to sink his teeth into the milky skin on his throat, "I know."

Minho only let Thomas go so that he could lean forward and accept the warmth of Newt's lips against his own. An open-mouthed, demanding kiss that caused the three of them to sway in the direction of the hallway where Newt seemed to be steering them.

He gasped, eyebrows drawn tight as Thomas' hips pitched forward, "We 'ave a-" Newt bit down on his lip, hand fisted in Minho's hair, "bed, guys. Bloody-" Minho sucked the words off his tongue, "bloody hell, we have a bed just-" 

Newt backed up and tripped over his own feet only to be caught by Minho who took the opportunity to reach down and lift up the hem of his shirt. Thomas leaned back, watched as Minho stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. His skin was riddled with scars but no bruises, clean of any fresh wounds and beautiful all the same. 

"Your turn," Minho purred, smiling when Newt walked backwards towards the double doors of their open bedroom. The blonde stripped slowly, fingers teasing the skin just above his hips as he tossed his own shirt aside and licked across his lips, jaw jutting towards Thomas.

"And you?" Newt asked playfully, a grin coaxing his lips upright, "looks like you could use my help, eh?"

Thomas was wearing a white long sleeve shirt and as his trembling hands moved to start fidgeting with each of the small buttons, Newt swatted them away. "Let me," dark oak eyes flicked around Thomas' face, settled for a moment on his slack lips and then blinked to the faint flush that frosted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Minho's index finger and thumb pinched Thomas' chin and pulled him gently to the side so he could lean over his shoulder and occupy his mouth.

Newt swiped his thumb across the gnarled scar on his shoulder and his hands ran up and down the now exposed skin of his abdomen. Thomas opened his eyes, mouth falling away from its place between Minho's lips so that he could watch Newt analyze the tiny memory. The reminder. The weight of their trials. 

Minho's hand curled around him, under his arm pit to reach up next to Newt's hand and feel across it himself. Thomas wanted nothing more than to erase it. Newt pressed his lips against the side of his mouth, his jaw, his neck, smeared them along his collar bone and dusted them across the top of his shoulder until he found the patch of mismatched skin and let them linger there. Thomas whimpered, squirmed, rocked his hips back to grind into Minho and threaded his fingers through Newt's hair, "Pants-" he gasped when Newt fell lower, teeth settled around his nipple, "why the fuck are we still wearing pants?"

"Because we 'ave all the time in the bloody world, ya shank," Newt rolled his eyes, nuzzling his face against Thomas' stomach as he dropped to his knees, "we're doin' this properly from now on."

Minho laughed against Thomas' neck as he coaxed the boy’s arms out of the white shirt and let it drop to the floor, "Stop being so impatient."

They were going to kill him. After all this time. After all the battles they'd won, horrors they'd faced and it was this- this slow, careful, deliberate sex that was going to be the end of Thomas.

In the glade it had always been quick, spur of the moment, hasty fucking that was quiet and painful. Raw. Desperate. Possessive. Blind action that usually happened after runs when Thomas and Minho would find Newt and drag him to the map room. They liked to think that they were secretive, the Minho-Thomas-Newt dynamic. But they were reckless and it was clear that the rest of the gladers knew, however, none of them were stupid enough to say anything about it.

This was so much different.

Thomas stepped out of his jeans and briefs when Newt pulled them down and he tried to hide his face, to stifle the sound threatening to spill from between his lips at the hot sensation of Newt's tongue circling the head of his cock. 

Minho's lips were a constant pressure on his pulse point and Thomas could feel him smile when he tried to bury his face just below the dark-haired boy's cheek. "Lemme hear you," Minho seethed, sucking wetly on one of his fingers before he dropped it down the expanse of his spine to rub between Thomas' cheeks, "you don't have to be quiet."

Thomas jerked, moaned, and panted with his head resting on Minho's shoulder and his hand in Newt's hair. His hips wanted to move, to thrust forward between Newt's stretched lips and to grind back onto Minho's long fingers but the two boys had him pinned between them and every nerve ending in his body was sparking with electricity. 

When Thomas started to whimper, to almost choke on the sounds leaking out of his mouth, Newt rose up from his knees and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Bed," he gritted, tugging on Thomas' mid-section, "both of ya."

Minho unbuckled his belt and rid himself of his lower garments while Newt grabbed a small bottle off the make-shift wooden night stand next to the large bed. The sheets were white and so incredibly soft compared to what they were used to. A cream comforter matched the pillows and Thomas touched them reverently when he crawled up on to the mattress.

"What's that?" Minho asked, kneeling up on to the bed as Newt ripped the clear wrapping off the bottle and clicked the top open.

"Lubricant, the real stuff, not the jelly shit those bastards sent us in the glade," Newt snorted, shoving the rest of his clothes off before he crawled up next to Thomas and held the bottle out to Minho. 

They took it slow. Rolled around over the new sheets and took turns touching each other as much as they could. It was a blur of hands and mouths and bodies, twisting and turning and writhing against one another. Whimpers turned into moans and moans evolved into deep gasps. The quiet broken whines they were accustomed to gradually work up into loud growls and breathless demands. Being vocal was new to all of them so hearing each other’s voices, wrecked and shaking, seemed to take its toll.

Newt ended up on his back beneath Thomas who had one hand fisted in the comforter next to Newt's head and the other gripping the iron rods of the bed frame just inches away. Minho was draped across Thomas' back, mouthing at his neck, buried deep inside him, grinding his hips in rhythmic circles. 

Thomas came first, sobbing through his orgasm as he left half-moon bites down the side of Newt's throat. Newt followed, arching up and grinding into Thomas' hip, one hand fisted in his hair while the other dug into Minhos' forearm. Minho was last, sucking a mark just shy of the tattoo that still branded the back of Thomas' neck while his hips stilled against his thighs. 

Minho fell down on one side of Newt while Thomas shifted over to the other. Their chests heaved in breath after breath and Thomas swore he could hear the chorus of their hearts beats echoing around the room like a drum circle. 

Light locks stuck to his forehead and Newt tried to catch his breath, "Well then," he closed his eyes, a smile playing along the lines of his kiss bitten lips, "that was-"

"Fucking insane," Minho interrupted, laying his head gently on Newt's shoulder.

Newt rolled his eyes, "I was tryin' to think of something a little more bloody romantic."

Thomas hummed quietly, "Minho's not one for romance, you know that."

"I can call you babe?" Minho offered, raising a brow as he pressed a kiss to Newt's jaw, "I'll call you babe and I'll call Thomas baby, how's that?"

Newt swatted him with the back of his hand and Thomas barked out a laugh.

"We need a shower," Newt groaned, glancing down at himself, "and then we need to sleep because you have another building plan coming up soon don't you?" he asked, turning to bump his nose against Minho's cheek.

"Yeah," Minho sighed, "Thomas and I are both working on this one. Aren't you helping Brenda with the school?"

Newt nodded, "Something like that- she thinks I'll be good with the little ones."

Thomas smirked, "You will be," he said softly and pulled Newt's hand up to his lips.

They stayed like that until the moon was high in the sky, shining in through their window. Thomas had almost dozed off until he was shaken awake, "C'mon now, we're takin' a shower," Newt mumbled against his cheek.

It was one of the first nights they'd had to sleep together again. They had a bed, clothes, and lives to look forward to. Somewhere call home. Something safe that they could rely on. Keys that opened the door to a place they could properly hide, a place that wouldn't compromise their existence as a whole or burden them with the choices they were forced to make back in the glade.

This. This almost-empty apartment in this frigid, half-built city. This was everything.


	2. run from me, i'll run to you

Caramel eyes cracked open in the morning and blinked, once, twice, three times before the blur from a good night’s sleep subsided and he could make out the soft angles of Newt's face resting just a few inches away. Thomas glanced over to the other side of the bed where Minho should've been and noticed an empty space. 

He must have gone for a run. Even after all this time Minho couldn't shake the routine of his feet against the asphalt and the wind in his face, of sucking air into burning lungs and the ache in his thighs that followed him day in and day out. Sometimes Thomas thought about going with him and other times he reminded himself that they found what they were searching for and that this place was a not a maze.

The slender arm curled around Thomas' middle tightened, " 'Mornin, love," Newt slurred, eyes still shut as he nudged his head under the other boys chin.

Thomas' fingertips played across the stairs of Newt's spine, "Morning," he answered, voice rough from sleep and worn from the night prior.

He felt Newt's hips shift and then his arm moved to swat the space behind him before he heaved a sigh and tucked himself back around Thomas, "My back is cold so I'm guessing he went for another run?"

"Every day," Thomas nodded against the top of his head. Ever since they got to Paradise, even when they were all huddled in a tiny little hostel while the make-shift apartments were being sorted out. Even when they slept on bunks and in sleeping bags until Minho finally got the generators working and their apartment fixed up. 

Newt squirmed and rolled over on to his back while Thomas propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him. 

"Think we should be worried?" Newt asked while he chewed absently on his bottom lip. He'd always worn worry like a badge of some sort, was always concerned for everyone’s well-being and was known for how often he showed his care for the people he looked after. But his eyes were far away as he talked about Minho, distant, like his gaze was somewhere out on the street trying to find him and bring him back to their bed. 

Thomas smoothed his hand over Newt's neck and cupped his cheek, "No," he breathed, tugging Newt to face him, "I think he's just dealing with everything in the only way he knows how."

Deep brown eyes softened, "Hope you're right, Tommy."

Thomas leaned down and sealed their lips together.

"Me too."

+

Minho walked through the door while Thomas was trying to figure out the coffee machine. His head was tilted to the side and he scratched the back of it while the silver coffee maker beeped at him, "Need some help?"

Thomas glanced over his shoulder and heaved a sigh, "I don't know how this shit works," he admitted, "I put the stuff in it and the pot where it goes but-"

"Did you add water?" Minho asked, arching a brow.

Thomas' forehead creased, "It needs water?"

Minho rolled his eyes before he reached into one of the cupboards and grabbed a plastic pitcher, filled it water and dumped it into the top of the coffee machine. He was drenched in sweat from his run with his hair askew and blue jeans tucked into the tops of his boots. It was hard to shake some habits and running in sneakers just didn't seem normal to people like them. Nor did comfortable gym shorts or sleeping in, apparently.

"Thank you," Thomas sighed as Minho closed to the space between them and kissed him briefly on the mouth. 

Newt was just getting out of the shower when Minho walked into the bedroom and he smiled softly when the runner walked up and touched his lower back.

There was silence. Uncomfortable, blatant silence that Thomas wanted to beat to death with a sledge hammer. Newt stood calmly by the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around his waist while Minho discarded of his clothes and moved past him. Another small touch, just above his belly button, and then the sound of the water running and nothing else.

Newt was the one who cracked first, "You good, Minho?" he asked, voice gentle and even.

Dark eyes narrowed down and Minho shrugged, "Yeah? Why would I not be?" 

The blonde shrugged and lifted his hand in mock surrender, "Just makin' sure is all, I'll probably be out of here by the time you're done gettin' clean so," his voice trailed off and Thomas swallowed painfully as he watched from the doorway. Watched Newt's eyes travel to his feet and his hands shuffle nervously with themselves.

It was sad what time apart could do even after the night they'd had. So much time had gone by since the glade and living like this... it was so much more complicated.

Minho lifted Newt's jaw, murmured something against his lips about seeing him when he got home.

Thomas ducked away back to the kitchen while Newt got dressed and he kissed him goodbye when he left to go meet up with Brenda to discuss the school situation. 

The coffee was bitter. Stale. But Thomas stood next to the over-sized window in their living room and drank it while he studied the silhouettes of Paradise. Tall buildings. Shops. Jagged mountain tops far to the east and cliffs to the west that over-looked the ocean. 

Home, Thomas thought to himself, tongue saturated with the taste of an old-world pick-me-up, this is it.

+

The day didn't go by quickly but Thomas found that working with Aris wasn't all that stressful once they stopped arguing and actually started working. Especially with Minho and his need to control every situation in all ways possible.

They needed to get one of the vacant buildings ready for move-in's as soon as possible but moving generators, putting up walls and establishing central heating were all things that needed to be done. Minho- of course, was as overly confident as ever and assured Aris it would be completed in a month. Thomas was the one who had to interject and give the realistic time line of perhaps, six to eight weeks.

Minho didn't argue after Thomas barked at him about being thick-headed. He did huff and puff about how Thomas didn't believe he could do it while they walked home that night. The sky was painted all different shades of pink and orange, a telluride skyline that reminded him of Denver. What a disgusting memory.

"Are you listening to me?" Minho snapped as Thomas stared up-right at the sky.

"Yes," Thomas sighed, "I know you said you can get it done but I just think we should take it easy on how hard we're working everyone. There are so few of us here and getting the rest of the immunes is hard enough as it is so we should take our time."

"Whatever you say."

Thomas wanted to kick him in the shins, shove him around, get it through to him how they used to with strength and hostility. But he reached out and grabbed Minho's hand instead, "We'll get it done," he said quietly, threading their fingers together.

Minho held on tight despite his feigned annoyance.

It wasn't the right time to ask about the morning runs. It wasn't the right time to tell him that Newt was worried. He didn't really know if there would ever be a right time for any of that.

+

They ate raw vegetables and soup for dinner and when they went to bed Newt pressed himself against Minho's chest and traced the pattern of his scar with the tip of his index finger. 

It was so familiar in the dark.

Thomas fell asleep listening to the two of them breathe, Newt's ass snug against his crotch and Minho's hand resting on his thigh.

+

The sun shined over the white paint of their window sill and Thomas woke to the nudge of someone’s hand on his hip.

It was Newt.

"Gone again," he sighed, "I even tried to wake up early an' catch him, that damn bloody shank." 

Caramel eyes cracked open and wide chocolate eyes stared back.

"Want me to go find him?" Thomas slurred, arching his back and stretching up towards the bars of the bed frame.

Light fingertips dripped down his sternum, "No, stay with me," Newt breathed.

Thomas didn't leave but he did get up and pulled the curtain closed, drenched them back in shadows and mock-night so that he could crawl under the comforter and wrap himself around Newt all over again. They didn't fall asleep but the idea of it was nice.  
Simple touches. Lips against shoulders. Toes squirming against each other. Noses bumping occasionally.

Minho showed up an hour later to a dark apartment. Their bedroom doors creaked when he opened them and Thomas could hear his breath catch when he noticed that they were still in bed. He drew lazy circles on the small of Newt's back as he lifted his head and blinked to where Minho stood.

Newt patted the space beside him, "Come back."

"I'm gross," Minho retorted, tossing his tank top aside.

"I'm very aware of that, come back," the blonde piped, louder this time and more insistent. 

Thomas felt the bed dip and he watched Minho slide in behind Newt. His eyes moved from Minho's slightly confused expression to the contemplation that Newt wore pinched between his brows. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, tapping anxiously against the bottom of Thomas' chest.

It was when Minho started to say something that Newt rolled on to his back and huffed.

"We've only been here two days and both mornings you're gone!" the blonde exclaimed, "I wake up and I see the bloody sun on the horizon but you aren't here and I know-" he paused his ramblings to try and collect himself but Thomas could feel him shaking, "I know where you've gone. I know you've gone runnin' and I know that you'll be back, every single rational part of me knows you'll be back but-"

Thomas hadn't understood. He hadn't understood at all until now. Something inside him wished he still didn't because it hurt. It hurt like an old scab, ripped open and rubbed with salt.

Minho tried to stop him but Newt's voice got louder, "But it wasn't you left to wonder, alright?" 

Newt couldn't look at either of them so he turned his face down and away. It was hard to talk about how inhuman it was for all of them. For Minho and Thomas to face to maze. For Newt to watch them go every morning and wait every night for their return.

It was hard to imagine what that would have been like.

"I never knew, okay," Newt confessed when Minho curled in closer and tried to inhale a steady breath, "I never knew whether you two were comin' back and after-"

Alby.

They both knew whose name he was going to say but Minho was the one who cut him short.

"What do you want?" he hushed roughly, reaching up to grab at Newt's face and push the absent tears falling from the corner of his eyes away. 

Newt didn't like to cry. He hated it- they all did, but Newt especially. His jaw clenched and he reached out to tug on Minho's hips and grind his ass back against Thomas' waist, "I want you to fuck me properly in the mornings, ya-"

Once again Minho cut him short as he slammed their lips together. 

Thomas heard the rush of their kiss, felt the way Newt arched into it and hissed when the blonde's hand scrabbled backwards to find Thomas' thigh and sink his nails in. There were words exchanged, a quick you could have fucking asked from Minho and a you should have known better from Newt but it ended quickly when Newt was suddenly flipped with his front facing Thomas.

"Tommy," his voice was shaken, a whine that broke between them as Newt reached forward and slid their hips together.

It was a frenzy of lips and tongues. The kind of kissing that was messy and sloppy and painful. 

Newt bit at Thomas' lips, fisted his hand in his hair and pushed him down towards his neck while Minho mouthed at his shoulder blades. Newt wasn't shy about letting them know exactly what he wanted and he arched back against the drawn up rub and push of Minho's slicked fingers between his legs.

The long bony fingers threaded in Thomas' hair tightened again and Newt whined, loud and desperate, "It's fine, 's fine," he panted, shoving his abdomen against Thomas' open mouth, "no one can see just-"

Newt yelped at the pinch of his skin between Thomas' teeth, panted when he sucked and chewed on his hips bones, and scooted down even lower to get to his thighs. They weren't shy marks that lovers left knowing they would fade in the hours to come. They were heavy imprints and deep blotched bruises that had Newt squirming and moaning, knuckles white where he fisted his hand in the pillow under his head. 

Minho wasn't usually one for words but he breathed heavy against Newt's ear, "Tell me what you want," he twisted his fingers and Newt threw his head back, "like this or," another quick curl of his fingers, "on your stomach," he smiled when Newt grinded against him, "tell me, beautiful, ya gotta tell me-"

"Shut up, shut up," Newt hissed, mouth falling open as his hips stuttered towards the warmth of Thomas' tongue dragging up the underside of his cock, "just shut up and f-fuck, fuck-" 

The blonde held his breath when Thomas slid down and hollowed his cheeks, tongue rubbing hard against the velvety flesh. They didn't really have any preferences but when it came to the three of them they all had their strong points and Thomas wasn't shy about knowing that his was the ability to give an exquisite blowjob.

His mouth was hot and his lips were tender as they dragged back and forth again and again, throat clenching around the salty taste of come and sweat and flesh. 

Minho watched over Newt's shoulder, lips feather dusting the expanse of his neck as he continued to pump his fingers, scissoring and stretching, "Tell me," he repeated, more demanding this time.

"Like this, like this," Newt spat, one hand resting on the top of Thomas' head while the other lay underneath his pillow, white-knuckled around a bundle of sheets. 

Newt winced at the coolness of the air once Minho removed his fingers and he panted down at Thomas whose mouth was still wrapped around his cock. Newt gave a few shallow thrusts forward and was rewarded by Thomas' jaw going slack and the vibration of an eager moan rumbling up from the brunette's throat. 

"What the fuck, why were you even wearing clothes?" Newt whined, head tilted back as another groan was ripped out of him by Thomas and his skillful tongue. Minho stumbled to get his pants off and before Newt could start complaining again he crawled up on to the bed and pressed himself right against his back.

Newt tugged at Thomas' jaw, pulled him up and away so that he had something to grip on to while Minho nudged the blunt head of his cock against him and pressed in. It was a slow stretch, burning, maddening and intimate. Newt's palm slid over the curve of Thomas' waist, pulled him forward and whimpered at the slide of their cocks brushing together. 

The sounds that were torn out of Newt that morning were loud and broken and pretty. Soft moans that turned into high-pitched whimpers, low raspy pleading that ended in unashamed begging. Thomas loved the way Newt spoke when he was getting fucked and Minho loved it even more.

"Harder," Newt gritted against Thomas' lips, "faster-"

Minho grunted, fingernails biting into Newt's thigh as he shifted it higher and sank down deeper. 

Thomas had both their cocks fisted together and he bucked up, smacking their hipbones together every time he jerked forward.

Newt came first, kissing Thomas hard on the mouth with his back arched and Minho pounding relentlessly into him. 

Minho didn't have much more left in him after Newt's body clenched and spasmed, tightened around him like a vice and wrenched his orgasm out of him. He gasped, moaned, shook and melted against Newt's spine while his fingertips twitched against the soft skin his leg.

Thomas was encouraged with gentle, breathless words and Newt's slick hand, "C'mon, look at me."

Butterscotch eyes were lidded, cheeks flushed and Thomas came with a soft gasp against Newt's jaw.

It was still dark in their room but a strip of daylight peeked in through the crack in the curtains. Thomas could hear the beeping of the coffee maker in the kitchen and the shift of Newt's hips against the bed. Minho's eyes peered over Newt's shoulder and he watched Thomas who stared back. 

Thinking it was over had been foolish. They shared the knowledge together- the jolt of Newt's residual fear and how it watermarked their lives. Thomas wanted to make promises he couldn't keep, to say that they would be fine all over again, that nothing would ever happen to them. But he couldn't. He couldn't say a damn thing.

Minho's eyes softened and he kissed the back of Newt's neck. They'd been fighting for their lives for so long... it was hard to shake the feeling that there was nothing left to defeat. That they were allowed to be happy. 

"Just wait 'til I'm off doing somethin' to go for your runs," Newt mumbled as he reached up to rest his hand over Minho's wrist, "and take Tom with you so I know you're not alone."

Minho tightened his arm around Newt's waist and glanced at Thomas, "We don't have to run if-"

"Yes, you do," Newt cut in, rolling from on his side to his back so he could look at both of them. He touched Thomas' face gingerly with the back of his hand and played with Minho's fingers, "I know ya do," he breathed, "trust me."

They didn't talk about what happened in the early years at the glade. 

And whenever Newt hinted at it, at his lack of composure and the disappearance of his will, Minho was the one who felt the whip lash. 

Minho rested his head on Newt's chest and smoothed his hand across the inside of his thigh. Along the part of his body that was still mangled from his fall. His jump. 

Thomas swallowed painfully.

"You won't wake up without me anymore," Minho whispered.

Newt nodded.

Two days together in Paradise and they were already making amends.


	3. words so heavy

Things got easier after that. 

Aris found a few more people to help refurbish the old building that would become another set of apartments and Brenda put together something of a curriculum for Newt to study before the children arrived at the end of spring.

Children. What a concept.

"What am I gonna do with a bunch of little ones, Brenda?" Newt sighed, glancing over a few old and tattered books, "teach em how to do their part?"

Brenda shoved him playfully with her shoulder and gestured to the old fire-house just down the road from the beach, "Well, you can teach them their ABC's to start, maybe teach them about the planets and the weather and the seasons." 

Newt rolled his eyes, tongue darting out over his lips, “I’ve never done anything like this, shouldn’t you be asking Thomas to do this?”

“No,” she answered pliantly, smiling over her shoulder at him as she lifted some dust off a desk with her hand, “I think I asked exactly the right person. You handled all those boys pretty well back in the glade, this will be similar just a lot more fun and less stressful.”

Newt snorted a laugh, “I would sure hope so.”

“I’ll be here too,” the brunette assured, twirling her hair into a bun and sliding a chopstick in to hold it up, “I think I might be teaching them how to swim. Siggy’s doing a cooking class.”

Newt traced the grounds, from the floor to the dusty shelves and the handful of desks set in front of a large table. A set of stairs led up to a room full of beds where the kids would be sleeping and the back door led out into the garage.

“Well, I’ll sure do my best,” Newt sighed. 

He grabbed a towel out of a basket by their feet and started to clean.

+

Thomas skidded to a stop at the edge of the dark cliff and looked down, chest heaving in breath after breath, replacing the oxygen he’d lost running through the trees towards the beach. 

Minho stopped next to him, bouncing on his feet as he gazed down at the waves licking up along the shoreline. 

“This is where you’ve been runnin’ to?” Thomas asked, staring out over the horizon where the sun had just started to sink down into the water, painting the skyline orange and violet and the sea deep pinks and gold. 

Black hair clung to Minho’s forehead and he pushed it up and away, “Yeah, I just never came in the afternoon. I’ve never seen it like this before.”

“It’s beautiful,” Thomas said.

“It is,” Minho agreed, taking a careful step towards the edge where Thomas was standing. “Do you think the water’s warm?”

Thomas arched a brow, “Probably not.”

“Wanna find out?” Minho shrugged, arms crossed over his chest.

He grinned at Thomas who already wore a look of defeat and waved his hand towards the path that led down to the beach, “Might as well.”

The water was indeed extremely cold. It bit at Thomas’ exposed stomach and numbed his toes. His teeth chattered as he tried to wade in deeper, underwear clinging to his thighs, “It’s shucking f-freezing,” he hissed. They were trying to shake the habit of old glader speak and adapt to the modern curses but sometimes they snuck themselves in. 

“If you dive in it gets better,” Minho assured, spitting a mouth full of water at Thomas from a few feet away.

“I’m not doing that,” Thomas growled, arms covering his chest as he inched forward. He had absolutely no idea why he was so quick to agree to something like this.

“I’ll help you,” Minho chuckled.

“Do not,” Thomas snapped.

“It won’t be that bad.”

“It will be that bad. Minho- hey, no, get away, Minho!”

Minho did not get away and yes, it was that bad.

The larger boy tackled Thomas and sent him barreling down beneath the calm waves that rolled over on to the shore.

Thomas gasped for air when he broke the surface, cursing and splashing at Minho who couldn’t catch his breath from laughing. 

“Not funny,” Thomas said, sinking down so that his nose and eyes peeked out above the water.

Swimming was strange. Muscle memory was strange.

“I think it’s funny,” Minho smiled, circling around his bristled companion, “but if you’re cold now it’s gonna be worse when we get out.”

“I know that,” Thomas groaned.

“Think Newt would like this?” Minho asked.

Thomas looked out over the horizon where the sun had almost completely disappeared into the sea, “I think he’d like everything but the swimming part.”

“I think the swimming part would be good for him,” Minho shrugged, wading closer to Thomas until he found himself between the boy’s legs with Thomas’ thighs on either side of him.

“We’ll bring him here,” Thomas said softly, weightless in the water with Minho’s arms wrapped underneath him, shifting from the back of his thighs to his ass, “we’ll just have to drag him into the water like a cat.”

Minho was quiet for a moment, eyes staring off over Thomas’ shoulder while he searched for something to say. Thomas knew that face. The thinking face. The face he always wore when they used to jog towards the doors every morning.

Thomas touched his lips with the tips of his fingers and Minho’s eyes darted back to meet his gaze, “What’s on your mind?”

Minho licked nervously over his lips, “Is he okay?”

Drops of salt water clumped Thomas’ eyelashes together and when he blinked he could feel them separate, “I believe so,” he answered carefully, “he worries, like always, but other than that-“

“He wasn’t okay two weeks ago,” Minho looked down at his muddled reflection in the water.

“No,” Thomas agreed, thinking back to the second morning in the apartment, “he wasn’t but hopefully time will make everything a little bit easier.”

Minho nodded, “I love him.”

The words were easy and Thomas felt a spike in his stomach. He knew that. Of course he knew that but they’d never… None of them had ever.

“And I love you,” Minho added, watching for some kind of reaction to pass across Thomas’ face.

Dark eyes stayed unblinking, lips pressed together as Minho held Thomas up in the ocean. Water dripped down over his nose, his jaw, his chest and Thomas was convinced that whatever was happening behind his ribcage was what happened to people who jumped off buildings for fun, scaled mountain ridges or launched themselves out of planes.

The warmth in the pit of his stomach rushed to his elbows, his fingertips, between his toes.

“I love him,” Thomas willed himself to move but his chin just tilted down into a quick nod, “and I love you too.”

Minho almost looked taken aback. He tilted his head to the side and Thomas swallowed nervously when he felt Minho’s grip tighten. There was something sad about the surprise in his eyes. His lips fell slack into a small smile and his brow furrowed, “Yeah?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes, nodding slowly as he leaned forward, “Yes.”

The kiss tasted like salt water, sea weed and relief. Minho hummed softly against the stroke of Thomas’ tongue between his lips and slid one of his hands up into his hair, holding him steady as the tide swayed them back and forth.

It had taken them all far too long to say something so simple and true.

But Thomas didn’t blame himself for his resistance. He didn’t blame any of them for their collected state of refrain. 

Losing so much can cause someone to believe that what they have at the time is temporary. 

It was different for them. Thank god it was different for them.

+

“What the hell happened to you two?” Newt asked when Thomas and Minho walked through the door with their wet briefs in one hand and their boots in the other.

Minho shrugged, “We ran to the beach and I convinced Thomas to go for a swim.”

“Oh, yeah?” Newt’s words were covered in a breathy laugh.

“Yeah,” Thomas sighed, stripping off his shirt as he walked towards the bedroom, “I’m taking a shower,” he glanced over his shoulder, first at Minho and then at Newt, “if anyone else needs one.”

They did all end up crammed in the shower, sharing space and shampoo and soap. They washed each other and talked about their day. Newt complained about not knowing what to do with the kids and Thomas told them about the success with the gardens Frypan had been looking after with a few of the others. Minho rambled on about the progress on the second apartment building and mentioned getting some of the abandoned shops downtown up and running by the end of summer.

It was easy. Easy and calm and wonderful.

They didn’t go to sleep until late, instead they stayed awake and Newt read one of the old books Brenda had given him. Minho sketched something with a slender piece of charcoal on a pad of drawing paper. Thomas cooked something simple, some kind of vegetable noodle soup with bread and friend eggs.

Minho was the one who complained about being tired first and coaxed them all into bed. Newt flopped down first and the two runners piled in on either side. 

“I’m goin’ down to collect some more food from Siggy tomorrow,” Newt yawned, stretching his arms up and arching his back, “if you two would like to join me.”

Thomas nodded against Newt’s left shoulder and Minho nodded against his right.

Newt said goodnight and closed his eyes.

The words felt like thick honey in Thomas’ throat, but Minho hadn’t said it yet so he coaxed them to fall out from between his lips, “I love you.”

Big doe eyes flew open.

“And I love you,” Minho added gently.

Newt’s chest stuttered on an inhale and he kept his stare pointed at the ceiling. His bottom lip slid away and went slack. Hands twitched. Body went tight and rigid. 

It was silent. The kind of silence that made even the breeze against their window sound like a scream.

The blonde took in breath after breath. He inhaled slowly through his nose and then out through his mouth.

They knew why. 

They knew why and it was okay. It had always been okay.

It was okay that Newt fell in love with Alby first.

Minho wasn’t expecting an answer and neither was Thomas but Newt licked over his lips and sucked in another trembling gulp of air, “I love you both,” he choked out, “I do, I love you both.”

Thomas kissed him first, gentle and slow on the lips and Minho did the same as soon as Newt turned towards him.

It was dark and safe and warm and none of them were alone.

It was starting not to hurt.


	4. eat, drink, dance

They didn’t have a market per-say but once a week Frypan gathered up the rest of the farmers and cooks to ration off their stock. The crops were growing, the livestock was thriving and sometimes they even got small shipments of condiments and alcohol, mostly beer, from outside Paradise. 

The smell of barbeque wafted through the air towards the three of them as Newt, Thomas and Minho made their way down the street towards the small gathering in front of an old bistro. 

They gutted the tables and chairs from inside the diner-esque little café a few weeks after they arrived in Paradise and handed the keys to Frypan. The refrigerators worked and most of the grills and ovens were fixed up as well. Every week the cooks whipped up things throughout the day for everyone to munch on, sometimes they were finger foods other times, like today, they served up full meals.

Minho inhaled a deep breath through his nose, “Smells good.”

“Sure does,” Thomas said, lifting his nose in the air as they walked up to the front entrance of the shop.

Gally was out front looking through a large box of apples with a couple new people by his side. One, a girl, glanced up as Thomas walked by, eyes drifting from his feet to his face. She smiled, soft and timid, gaze darting away when Thomas smiled back.

Minho narrowed his eyes and snorted, throwing an arm around Thomas’ shoulder while Newt stifled a small laugh.

“Oh, come on,” Thomas rolled his eyes, throwing his hip into Minho’s as they walked towards the front counter, “are you serious right now?”

“She was lookin’ at you,” Minho said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, and?” Thomas blushed as he reached up to play with the long fingers resting over his shoulder, “She’s allowed to look.”

Newt was handling a bundle of kale and he dropped it to look over his shoulder and arch a brow, “Oh, she is?” he asked, lips pulling down into a mock frown, “Well then maybe we ought to give her somethin’ to look at then?”

Thomas tried to scoot away but Minho held him in place, laughing against his neck as Newt closed the space between them and smacked a kiss against his lips. 

The girl from outside tugged on Gally’s shirt sleeve and pointed shyly. He rolled his eyes, “Those three? Yeah. Yep. You get used to it.”

The wet end of a white towel snapped next to them, “Look who it is, ya’ll hungry?” Frypan smiled and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “We’ve got ribs, some good meat on the grill. Better than any bologna sandwich.”

Minho lifted up on to his tip toes and nodded, “Good that, man. Yeah, I’ll take some.”

Thomas pressed another short kiss against Newt’s lips and nodded over at the cook, “Yeah, I’ll have some.”

They ate and talked with Gally who was trying to get some of the shops down town cleaned out and refurbished. He was also helping Siggy build a greenhouse for some of the more delicate herbs he wanted to grow.

Brenda showed with a dolly packed with boxes. The contents all clanked together.

“What’s that?” Newt jutted his chin towards the load of boxes.

Brenda shrugged, “I think it’s wine,” she said, holding up one of the dark dusty bottles, “yeah,” she confirmed, twisting it around to show them the label, “wine.”

The blonde blinked a few times before he turned to look at Minho who was chewing slowly and shrugged. Thomas tilted his head to the side.

Newt grabbed two bottles and placed them at the bottom of the wicker basket he brought to carry their food back. 

The dark haired girl eyed the three of them wearily before she walked back out to the front of the store and dug through the boxes of fruit.

They ended up getting some fresh vegetables, fruit, and a loaf of bread, a couple fresh fish and some eggs. Thomas made sure they filled up a jug of milk as well and Minho whined about cereal so they took a box of stale frosted fruit flakes too.

“We still have rice?” Minho asked as he picked up a bag.

Newt nodded, “Yeah, we still have some from last week.”

“Hey, I almost forgot!” Brenda bounded in through the open doors of the shop again and held out a small dome speaker and some type of MP3 player, “We got these in our last shipment. It’s got a bunch of music on it,” she shrugged and grinned, “thought you guys might want one.”

Thomas’ lips parted into an open mouthed grin as he reached out and grabbed the device, “Music,” he repeated softly, “thank you, Brenda.”

She nodded and waved as she walked backwards and turned to dart out the door.

“Music?” Minho asked, poking the speaker with his index finger.

“Yeah,” Thomas said, “I guess we can plug it in when we get home?”

Newt shrugged, “Might as well.”

+

They didn’t remember the music until halfway through the first bottle of wine.

Wine was strange. Fermented fruit. Bitter with a sweet warmth that stung their tongues and a bite at the end that reminded them of its effect on their minds and bodies. They had rice and vegetables for dinner with a few pieces of bread smothered in a garlic sauce Frypan taught Newt how to make. 

“Weird,” Minho mumbled, tilting the bottle against his lips.

Thomas felt warm and his legs tingled whenever he moved them. He was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling while Minho sat on the couch with his legs kicked up on the table. Newt snatched the wine bottle and took a sip.

“We should turn on that contraption Brenda gave us,” the blonde piped, swaying slightly as the alcohol drifted up and wrapped around his thoughts.

“Contraption,” Thomas echoed, laughing to himself as he plugged it into an outlet and hit the play button. 

“Yes! Contraption!” Newt chirped, a sound of protest falling from between his lips as Minho took the wine bottle back.

Thomas laid back down on the floor after he turned up the music and smiled as the first song came and went. Slow, soft, melodic. It evolved song after song, some with vocals, and some without until they came to one that was deep with a violent crunch vibrating after every drop. It was dark and mechanical and strangely sexual. Thomas felt a pull just below his belly button and he bit down on his bottom lip when Newt knelt down and crawled over him.

There was nothing more appealing than the brush of Newt’s lips against his own and Thomas thought in that moment, verging from tipsy to drunk, nothing could be better than making out to the beat of whatever music was playing. That thought immediately changed when Newt’s hips started to move.

They rocked down into Thomas in small circles and sways while his stomach rolled in slow waves to the sounds leaking out through the speaker.

Minho watched, bottle hovering away from his lips. Dark eyes lidded and a deep blush splotched over his cheeks. He didn’t move. Didn’t talk. Just watched.

“Tommy,” Newt whispered, he ran his hand down his thigh and pushed lightly, coaxing the brunette to move.

Thomas swallowed and arched up to meet the slow grind of Newt’s hips against his own.

This was different. This was sex appeal. It dawned on him then that they had the freedom to explore that now. 

Thomas turned his head, eyes raking across Minho who was sitting back in the couch with his legs spread and the bottle resting in his lap. Newt followed his gaze, thrusting his hips down and angling his thigh to slot between Thomas’ legs. A soft gasp followed and Newt kissed the side of his mouth, “He looks lonely.”

They stumbled to their feet. 

The blonde twisted the knob on the speaker and turned up the volume before he joined Thomas in front of Minho.

Thomas grabbed the bottle and took a drink before he set it down on the table.

Minho still hadn’t said a word, just stared at them with one eyebrow arched high on his forehead. He sat up, straightened his back and inhaled a shaky breath when Newt stripped off his shirt and let it drop to the ground.

“Is this okay?” Thomas asked, sliding one knee on the couch and the other between Minho’s legs, straddling one of his thighs.

Newt mimicked the same on the other side, a hand running up under Minho’s shirt to his chest.

The music was loud and compromising, tempting Thomas to grind his waist forward and arch his back. Newt wrapped his hand around the back of Minho’s neck, rolling his hips in time with the music. They both didn’t fit very well on Minho’s lap but it worked for the time being, both of them using one of his thighs for leverage.

“Best night ever,” Minho answered, breathless and heated.

Thomas moved over so that he could strip his shirt off and Newt occupied the open space by sliding his thighs around Minho’s mid-section. He grinded down, one hand gripping the couch above Minho’s head while the other cupped his jaw. Tight stomach rippled and rolled. Lean hips swayed back and forth again and again. Newt leaned back, holding on to Minho’s shoulder and sighing softly when he felt a strong hand slither up his torso.

Thomas watched, eyes burning the image deep into his memory in case something like this never happened again. Drunk strip teases and lap dances weren’t something they seemed to embrace but then again this was their new life. Who knows what could happen. 

The brunette licked over his lips, held his breath when Minho dragged his tongue up the expanse of Newt’s abdomen and sank his teeth around the pale pink of one of his nipples.

The blonde mewled, fingers finding their way into Minho’s hair while his head lolled to the side, eyes pointed at Thomas. Newt watched him from under his lashes, lips parted around a quiet moan. 

Minho’s hand slid across the couch where Thomas was sitting and wrapped around his leg, tugged on him until he sat up on his knees. Newt stumbled, making room again on Minho’s lap while he ducked down and latched his mouth to the side of Minho’s neck.

Thomas licked into Minho’s mouth and arched his back when the older boy reached around and grabbed a hand full of his ass. 

“Fuck,” Minho cursed and his hips bucked up at the sudden pressure of Newt’s hand slipping under the waist band of his pants, “We need to move- we need to move right now.” 

They didn’t get to the bedroom without falling against the wall in the hallway more than once, lips attacking whatever surface of flesh they could find while hands tried desperately to pull off each other’s clothes. 

“I wanna try something,” Thomas blurted against Minho’s shoulder as Newt stood behind him and unfastened the belt on his jeans.

Minho nodded.

The alcohol didn’t just make him fuzzy, it also made him brave. 

“Lay down on your back,” Thomas pushed Minho down who bounced on the bed, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Can we do something new?” Thomas asked as he crowded Newt towards the bed.

The blonde nodded with his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

“Get on top of Minho on your hands and knees.”

“Tom, I can’t-“

“I’ll hold you up,” Thomas whispered, “I promise.”

Sometimes it was hard for Newt to support himself on his bad leg but he did as he was told and took his time crawling up over Minho, lips trailing along his stomach as he went.

Thomas watched them. The slick slide of their lips when Newt leaned down and sealed their mouths together. He slid his knees forward on the bed behind Newt and stroked a hand up his spine, watching his hips stir. Newt’s thighs slid further apart when Thomas inched closer and he left small wet bites down the middle of the smaller boys back.

Newt huffed, “Tommy, what-“ the sudden protest was knocked out of him when Thomas dipped his tongue between his cheeks and pressed it hard against Newt’s hole.

“Fuck, oh my god-“ Newt’s back arched and his hips pitched up against Thomas’ face. His mouth was open, panting against Minho’s jaw and he scrambled to find something to hold on to. Minho’s hair became that something.

Thomas wasn’t gentle or careful. He licked and probed with his tongue, swirled it around the tender rim of muscle and held Newt’s shaking hips up with both hands.

Minho’s jaw went slack as he watched over Newt’s shoulder. 

When Thomas delved deeper, twisted his tongue and shoved as far as he could he felt Newt’s knees buckle and hummed, grip tightening around his waist. Everything was wet and drunk and sloppy. Newt kept rolling his hips, trying to get more of Thomas inside him while he bit and sucked on Minho’s collarbones, cursing and writhing against his torso.

A slick finger pressed in beside his tongue and Newt’s back bowed, “Don’t stop,” he whimpered, knuckles digging into Minho’s scalp.

Minho raked his nails down Newt’s sides and reached underneath to wrap his hand around his cock. It only took a couple slow long strokes before Newt was falling forward, gasping and sobbing with his open mouth against Minho’s throat. 

Thomas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Newt was trying to catch his breath while Minho smoothed his hand up and down his back, eyeing Thomas with a small smile.

The blonde sat up slowly, “I wanna do that to you,” he husked down at Minho who blinked wide eyed back at him.

Minho usually didn’t bottom and he blushed furiously, shifting on the bed until Thomas crawled up beside them and pressed a kiss against Minho’s jaw. Rimming wasn’t exactly bottoming but the idea of it still made Minho nervous. 

Newt leaned over, almost falling to get to Thomas and crushed their lips together.

“It’s okay,” Newt cooed down at Minho, “we can stop if you want.”

Minho ended up allowing it and Newt took his time appreciating the way Minho looked on his hands and knees straddling Thomas. 

Soft lips trailed down his spine while Minho hid his face in Thomas’ neck, eyes closed and teeth gritted. His hands played anxiously with the comforter and Thomas bumped his cheek against his jaw, “Tell us if you want to stop,” he whispered, thumbs rubbing circles over his shoulders.

They didn’t stop.

Minho whined and groaned. He fell on to his elbows and ended up holding on to one of Thomas’ hands while the other gripped the sheets. His ass grinded against Newt’s mouth, circling and bucking with every flick and press of the blonde’s tongue.

When he came his muscles clenched and his eyes watered. He cried out into the hollow of Thomas’ throat and his knuckles cracked when they twisted harder into the sheets next to them.

They all agreed that experimenting was a good idea and so was music and so was alcohol.

Newt and Minho both went down on Thomas. They took turns fucking him with their tongues and sucking him as far into the back of their throats as they could. He ended up coming in Minho’s mouth with Newt biting down on the jut of his hip bone.

Yes, experimenting was good.

+

They woke up covered in dried sweat and come with the taste of each other and wine still in their mouths.

Newt complained of a headache and after a nice long shower they all piled back into bed and slept the day away.


	5. rainy days

“I’m really nervous,” Newt confessed as he paced back and forth in the living room. 

It was the end of spring and the children had arrived two days ago. Today was the day Newt introduced himself as one of their teachers.

“You’re gonna be great,” Minho assured, flashing a toothy smile, “they’re gonna love you, ya shank.”

Newt rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.”

Thomas walked through the bedroom door while he dried his hair with a towel, “Don’t over think it, Newt.”

“How am I supposed to not over think it? They’re a bunch of bloody babies! I don’t know anything about children,” he pursed his lips into a thin line. 

Thomas stole a quick kiss from the blonde’s lips and shrugged on a light jacket, “You’re gonna be amazing.”

Newt heaved a sigh and grabbed the tan messenger bag full of books off the coffee table.

“Let’s go then,” he gestured towards the door and wrinkled his nose.

Minho smiled and leaned down to press his lips against Newt’s in a firm kiss, “Alright.”

+

Brenda was waiting for them outside the fire station.

“There’s twelve of them,” she said when Newt walked up, “and they’re all around five or six.”

Newt nodded and rubbed his fingers together anxiously.

Brenda waved a hand towards the door, “Go on in.”

The blonde walked forward, glancing over his shoulder to where Thomas and Minho stood. They both smiled at him and he smiled back, fighting against the jump and flip of his stomach. He pushed the door open and saw twelve pairs of big innocent eyes staring up at him from the floor. 

The desks had been pushed aside and a few large blankets and quilts made for a good sitting place.

Newt licked over his lips, “Hello there,” he tested, voice shaking slightly.

The kids blinked at him.

“My name is Newt,” he said, “and I’m going to be your teacher.”

A few of them smiled.

Newt opened his mouth to continue when a small snarky voice squeaked from the back, “Why is your voice funny?”

A little girl with dark skin and pig tails grinned. 

“My voice aint funny, little one, it’s quite normal,” Newt rambled, narrowing his eyes playfully, “why, you don’t like my voice, huh?”

The group laughed, small little giggles and squeals that made blood rush to Newt’s cheeks. 

Minho had his arms crossed over his chest and Thomas leaned against him as they watched from the door way.

“What’re we gun’ learn?” a boy with a southern accent tilted his head to the side.

“Well,” Newt sat down in front of them with his legs crossed, “I thought I’d start by teaching you about the stars and the moon and the planets and then we can learn about English some.”

“Tell us about Venus!” one of the children piped.

Newt smiled towards the door and nodded.

Minho and Thomas nodded back, “See you when you get home,” Thomas said before they took their leave and closed the door.

“Was that your boyfriend?!”

“What?” Newt gasped, “Well, maybe it was but weren’t we going to talk about Venus?”

The children all huddled closer, laughing and grinning. 

Maybe he could do this, Newt thought as a little girl with ice blue eyes and a timid smile curled up next to his leg.

Maybe he could do this.

+

A week later the first set of storms rolled in from the coast. Dark intimidating clouds clogged up the sky and raindrops the size of nickels pelted the small city. Everyone seemed to have the right idea and stayed inside until it passed. Most brewed coffee, read books, made something warm to eat.

Minho, on the other hand, stayed curled up with a pillow smashed over his head.

It was cute at first and Newt laughed under his breath at the quivering ball who refused to get out of bed. That was until they heard the thunder boom over-head and saw the lightening flash high across the sky and glow through their bedroom window.

Thomas immediately put his coffee cup down and slid down under the blankets next to Minho, “Hey,” he purred, “look at me, it’s okay.”

His cheeks were flushed and blotched, eyes swollen and glassy from silently crying.

“Minho-“ Thomas glanced up at Newt, concern pulled tight between his eyebrows, “hey, it can’t get to you, it’s alright.”

Newt followed Thomas’ lead and crawled in on the other side, sitting up with his back against the bed frame, “Come here,” he mumbled, pulling gently on Minho’s ear, “in my lap, go on.”

Black hair rubbed against Newt’s thigh as Minho shuffled closer, resting his head in the blonde’s lap with his arms wrapped tight around his leg, “I hate it,” Minho grumbled, sniffling loudly in the quiet room.

Thomas draped himself over Minho’s back and nodded, cheek smashed against the back of his neck as he nuzzled and hummed, “It’ll pass, babe.”

It wasn’t often that they used pet names and when they did it was usually out of sarcasm or in the bed room. But Minho pawed at Thomas’ arm and tugged it around his chest. The brunette gave a small squeeze and tucked himself flush against Minho’s back.

Newt ended up reading a book with one hand while the other raked soothingly through Minho’s hair. Thomas traced the line of his scar, felt the ridges of it branch out over his chest and up towards the curve of his throat. They stayed like that, huddled in bed until the storm passed and Minho was asleep.

“He’s droolin’ on me,” Newt sighed, shifting the leg Minho was wrapped around.

Thomas smiled and looked up, “We should probably move him on to a pillow.”

As soon as Newt made the attempt to move, Minho whined and shoved his face harder against his lap.

Thomas’ lips twitched into a smile.

Newt rolled his eyes and glared, “Well, help me,” he hissed, stare darting over to where Thomas was still cocooned around Minho.

“He’s scared,” Thomas said, voice tender and low.

“Oh, bloody-“ Newt shifted again and Minho just held on tighter, “can I at least scoot down and lay with ya?”

It took a moment before Minho relaxed and allowed Newt to put his book on the night stand and slide down under the covers with them.

Deep brown eyes watched Newt carefully and Minho blinked.

He still looked shaken and defeated, ashamed of his own fears. 

“It’s good, love,” Newt whispered, pressing forward against Minho’s chest when strong arms wrapped around his middle, “you’re good.”

Minho tucked himself under Newt’s chin and shuffled back into Thomas’ arms.

They all had fears- Minho just hated succumbing to his. Hated the idea of not being able to protect, to fight. He hated being vulnerable. 

But neither Thomas nor Newt minded being the strong ones for a night.

Realistically, they were all the strong ones anyways.

+

Thomas woke up to the wet, warm suction of Minho’s mouth around two of his fingers. He peeled his eyes open and his hips pressed forward snug against Minho’s ass, “Well, hello,” Thomas rasped, voice still coated in sleep. 

Minho hummed, tongue sliding between and around his fingers.

Newt was also awake and his head was ducked down, teeth nipping at Minho’s chest, “Mornin’,” he whispered, hands busy expanding over the grooves on Minho’s abdomen. 

The storm was gone and the sky was clear. The city smelt fresh like rain and for the first time they could hear birds singing outside the window.

Minho guided Thomas’ spit slicked fingers between his legs and arched against him.

“Yeah?” Thomas asked, kissing his shoulder as he rubbed and pushed between his cheeks.

“Yeah,” the runner nodded, hands moving into Newt’s hair and gripping hard.

It wasn’t typical for Minho to bottom but he’d initiated it a handful of times. It didn’t matter- pleasure was pleasure and making each other come had always been end game when they were in the glade. They never really took their time to understand what made each other feel good, instead they just rushed passed the intimate stuff and scrambled straight into the fucking. It worked for them then.

But now.

Thomas rolled over to dig through the night stand and find the overly used bottle of lube, coating his fingers before he circled them around the tight rim of muscle hidden between Minho’s legs. 

Minho grunted out something that sounded like ‘fucking do it’ but the words were muffled by Newt’s mouth. 

The brunette obliged, sliding his fingers in as deep as he could before curling them. 

It was difficult to prep Minho due to his overly insistent attitude. More. Harder. Faster. He was a greedy lover but he knew exactly what he wanted. 

They gave him what he wanted. Deep and hard and raw.

Thomas held him up on his knees, one arm wrapped around the middle of his chest while the other gripped Minho’s hip. Newt was lying beneath them, looking up from under his lashes while his hand played absently with his own cock. 

“Jesus-“ Minho choked, throwing his head back against Thomas’ shoulder when he grinded in and mouthed down the side of his neck.

The sound of skin meeting skin and the look on Minho’s face beckoned Newt to his knees. The blonde trailed his lips up Minho’s stomach to his chest and then finally to his mouth.

“Should I touch you?” Newt breathed, sucking Minho’s bottom lip in-between his teeth and biting down.

Minho gripped the back of Newt’s head and pried roughly at his lips, tongue diving in to trace the places behind his teeth. His spine bent and his free hand tugged Newt’s hand down to brush against his cock, swollen and untouched, heavy between his legs.

“Yes?” Newt questioned as his fingertips gave feather light touches to the underside of his cock.

Thomas gave another hard thrust and Minho gasped, nodding breathlessly against Newt’s lips, “Yes, fuck, please-“

Minho whimpered when he came, clenching around Thomas as he spilled over Newt’s hand and tried to swallow a few mouthfuls of air. Thomas stilled just after, cursing against the shell of Minho’s ear while Newt bit down on his bottom lip and let Minho stroke him through his orgasm.

Newt dropped back down on to the bed while Thomas eased out of Minho and did the same, flopping down at the foot of the mattress.

The bed shook when Minho fell forward on to his stomach and heaved a deep, satiated sigh.

Newt’s toes were still twitching and Thomas’ hair was in his eyes. Minho huffed, “Good morning,” he mumbled playfully, enticing a rather loud laugh from the three of them. 

+

Thomas and Minho went for a run that evening while Newt made dinner.

They stopped at the cliff side and watched the sun sink down into the water all over again.

“I’m happy,” Minho said, glancing over at Thomas.

Thomas tilted his head to the side and nodded, “Me too.”

“It’s weird,” Minho added, “I don’t know how to get used to it.”

Something twisted in Thomas’ chest because he didn’t know how to either.

“We’ll figure it out,” he offered, raking his gaze from Minho’s feet to his eyes.

Minho nodded, “We always do.”


	6. safety in numbers

“No,” Newt shook his head back and forth as Minho and Thomas stripped off their clothes.

The beach was empty and the sand felt good between their toes. It was starting to finally feel familiar.

“Yes,” Minho insisted.

The blonde shook his head back and forth again, arms folded tight across his chest, “I don’t want to.”

“You’re going to,” Thomas winked.

Newt’s cheeks tinted and he huffed, “Oh really now? And how exactly do you think you’re going to-“

Minho scooped him up and hoisted him over his shoulder before Newt could finish his sentence. 

The squirming, thrashing, hollering bundle of flesh cursed and kicked and whined.

“I don’t know how to swim!” Newt scrambled, inching himself away from the water like a cat, “You two bloody slintheads, do you hear me? I don’t know how t’ swim!”

“Relax,” Thomas sighed, smoothing a cold wet hand up Newt’s back while Minho lowered him into the water, “that’s why we’re here.”

It was terrifying at first when Newt’s body sank underneath the salty ocean water. His pupils were blown wide and he trembled, lips quivering as Minho started to pull his hands away.

“Don’t let me go!” Newt yelped, splashing around to try and find Minho’s shoulders again.

“I’m not! I’m not,” strong calloused hands gripped Newt’s hips, “relax already, I’d never let you go.”

Newt’s lips were pursed into a tight thin line while Minho grinned at him, water dripping down his face.

“Spread your legs,” Minho’s voice was gentler than usual but Newt still growled at him under his breath.

Thomas waded up behind him, resting his chin on Newt’s shoulder while his hands slid down the curve of his abdomen to rest on the insides of both his thighs, “C’mon,” he whispered, “don’t be mad.”

Dark woodsy eyes rolled, “Don’t be mad,” he mimicked sarcastically, spreading his legs and allowing Minho to wrap them around his waist.

“See,” Minho cooed, holding the lean, toned body against his own, “this isn’t so bad.”

Newt’s thighs clutched on to Minho’s hips and his hands still shook while they gripped his forearms. He glanced around nervously, “Speak for yourself.”

Thomas nodded towards the horizon, “Look.”

The sun was going down, bleeding into the ocean rich shades of purple and orange and red. The sky was streaked light blue and yellow, vibrant pinks and gold wrapped around distant clouds. The moon was a watermark against the sunset, claiming her stake on the sky and waking up the stars with her glow.

Minho’s lips curved into a smile when he felt Newt’s body start to relax.

“It’s beautiful,” the blonde murmured.

Thomas grasped Newt’s hands and pulled them slowly away from where they clutched Minho’s arms.

The small sound of protest faded when Thomas leaned the back of Newt’s head against his shoulder.

“We’ve been wantin’ to bring you here,” Minho said, one hand resting on Newt’s waist while the other was wrapped securely around his back.

Newt was quiet, eyes fixed on the extravagant display of colors decorating the sky.

Thomas turned and pressed his lips against Newt’s jaw, “We thought you might like it.”

“I do,” Newt’s voice was quiet, “I do.”

After the sun dripped into the sea and the stars started to come to life beside the moon, Newt gathered enough courage to lift himself up and sit more comfortably around Minho’s waist. His eyes moved between each of the runners and he reached out to touch Thomas’ face as the brunette waded next to them.

Minho’s lips were warm and plush when they pressed against Newt’s and he sighed into the kiss, one hand moving up to cup his cheek while the other wrapped around the back of Thomas’ neck.

There wasn’t a breath between them and Newt tilted his head as he brought their lips together, tongues sliding and rubbing.

They shared deep long kisses, one right after the other until the air chilled and shooed them back on to the sand where they continued- hands roamed the contours of each other’s bodies through soft sighs and gentle words. They tasted the salt that stained their skin and shivered underneath the quilted pattern of constellations light years away from their Paradise.

Their Paradise.

A home.

Safety. 

Thomas breathed easy as he rested his head on Minho’s chest and listened to the steady drum of his heart while Newt draped himself across their laps with his cheek pressed into Thomas’ stomach.

It wasn’t perfect but it was close and none of them could think of a better way to spend the rest of their lives besides living out their days loving one another.

It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t hurt and it wasn’t perfect but it didn’t matter.

Because this was it. This was real.


End file.
